From Lost and Found to FUNDBÜRO
The link to the ‘office of the found’: FUNDBÜRO offers a dedicated space for objects that are recognised as having some value. They are classified and sometimes misclassified, catalogued and sometimes miscatalogued. They stand a chance of being recovered and reactivated, but it is possible they will never be reclaimed. The fate of objects found in Lyon differs radically from those in Johannesburg, where the chances of ending up in an office dedicated to the found are slim (although they might continue circulating in non-regulated ways); for these reasons, a found object in Johannesburg is charged with specific narratives in intense ways. Objects might also end up as the kind of curiosity that was pointed out to us by the custodian of the Lost Property office at Wits University – something that one would have thought could never be lost in the first place.
Wits University Fundbüro: Stories from the Custodian (January 2013)
There was this one student. He asked the library to look after his suitcase because he had nowhere to stay. Just for a day or two, he said. But he never came back so they brought the suitcase here. He did come – at the beginning of December to collect it.
These people had a braai [Afrikaans word for barbecue used by speakers of all languages in South Africa] and I think they were . . . unwell [drunk] so they forgot their stuff [forks, knives, spoons, some plates]. Then they were probably too embarrassed to come and collect it.
Yes, she’s my lucky doll. She was lost last year. If nobody comes to claim her I’ll keep her. She’s my lucky doll.
Our FUNDBÜRO offered a range of objects that we couldn’t have predicted. How did we tag these objects? Sometimes we recognised that they were fragments torn from larger pieces/edifices, such as the bits of sculpture hacked off churches that we were shown in the storage room at the Johannesburg Art Gallery.
Story from Mr Julius Tshabangu: Lost Property Office at Johannesburg’s Park Station
A couple left a suitcase on the platform at Belfast – you know there by Mpumalanga. Inside there were a lot of things including a cell phone. It wasn’t locked and I called it. Our numbers here are not complete so you can’t see who is calling. He was suspicious. I’m sorry to tell you this . . . I’m really sorry to tell you this . . . it’s unfortunate . . . but he had a bad attitude. I could feel it. When I said ‘hello, this is Julius’, he said ‘Nee, wat!’ [No, what is it?]. It’s that colonial thing. I told you we all come from different environments and have different ideas.
Police Station at Park Station:
. . . the second stop of our erring journey through the railway station to find a lost and found office.
Our first port of call, the information counter, proved less than productive: the woman was in a bad mood, considering our question useless and the desire to actually go to an office for lost and found objects utterly ridiculous. She gave us some general indication of where to go accompanied by a gesture, which was of the kind with which you send people away.
The police station, situated in some strange cave-like space, around the corner of a long ill-lit corridor, where people queued up with papers (affidavits?).
A typewritten message on a pillar:
‘AFFIDAVIDS CAN ONLY BE MADE WHEN THESE ITEMS “GOT LOST” DURING A CRIME EG ROBBERY; THEFT; HIJACKING’
A poster pinned on the wall where a bench is situated, on which people wait for their turn to be served at the desk:
The poster is yellow in the top part (one third) and red below, the edge of the two colours separating the words Positive and Value.
Moral Regeneration Movement
Draft Charts of
POSITIVE VALUES
Hand written message on an A4 paper pinned to a pillar behind the counter separating the public from the police officers serving the clients. Only Cynthia could read it – I could only decipher the first two words (do I need to see an optician?).
I lost a son (boy)
By name Freeman
Address: . . . Contact number: . . .
Wearing orange T shirt and
Blue jean trousers